


For a Little Homemade Tea

by candco



Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character Death, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candco/pseuds/candco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days you just want a cup of tea.<br/>~4000 words. A montage of six scenes of the boys drinking tea. Set after Season five finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Little Homemade Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trufflemores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores/gifts).



1.

This is the last time Blaine will ever forget his umbrella. No matter how lovely the weather seems. It was beautifully sunny when he left the apartment that morning, but he should've known that New York weather can turn on a dime. It's pouring sheets of rain outside, the sky gray and gloomy. Blaine had left class throwing a newspaper over his head, but it's so soaked that it plasters itself to his hair. Blaine heaves heavy breaths, wanting to walk home as briskly as possible, which is hard to do when the streets and subways are filled with wet and stinky individuals that want to go as much as he does.

He grabs onto his strap for his shoulder bag and walks to the subway station, gently elbowing anyone in his way. Once Blaine's underground and out of the rain, he resigns to being squished in the subway car. Blinking the rain from his eye lashes, he brushes off whatever drops are on the surface of his backpack and have yet to soak through. He looks down at himself, feels the dampness of his shorts and polo sticking to his skin uncomfortably. His shoes are a lost cause. Blaine huffs, and he can feel his eyebrows draw together in frustration.

It's not a big deal. It's just rain. A little water. But today has not been Blaine's day. He was late to class, because Kurt held him up. Not for the fun reason that Kurt usually does (which is to give Blaine good morning kisses so lush that… well.) He forgot to set the timer last night for coffee, so both Kurt and him woke up grumpy and haven't exchanged kisses at all. It might be silly, but even though they sleep in the same bed, he just misses Kurt. It just feels like it's been days since Blaine's been able to talk to him for more than three sentences at a time. Final exams are coming up, and both of them have been busy lately.

Finally, he's at his stop, and scrambles to make it out before the doors close. As he's walking home, he narrowly avoids a couple puddles. The sky looks gloomier than before, even though it's only late afternoon, and he just can't wait to get back to his apartment.

Once he opens the door, Blaine stops and could just cry. There's Kurt just nestled on the couch with a fleece blanket watching the rain outside the window. Kurt turns his head to look at Blaine, and his eyes soften at the expression on Blaine's face.

"Oh Blaine, honey. Why don't you change out of your wet clothes?"

Blaine's speechless, because this is why he loves Kurt. It's just a relief.

Blaine goes into their bedroom and peels off his clothing, jumping into his cotton monogrammed pyjamas (okay, so maybe they're Kurt's, but Blaine has worn them so much that they might as well be his). Blaine towels off his hair and rolls up the sleeves and cuffs of the pants to a more suitable length. Once he goes back out to the living room, he sees Kurt has steeped two cups of tea. Blaine smiles and almost runs to Kurt's outstretched arms on the couch, snuggling into his side and burying his face into Kurt's soft sweater. He feels Kurt's arms wrap around him with the blanket, and Blaine feels so adoringly cocooned in comfort. Blaine claspes his hands around his mug, and inhales the aroma, letting the steam warm up his nose. Both of them slowly sip at their tea, and listen to the rain patter outside. Blaine feels Kurt's fingers sweep his hair and kiss him gently on the forehead. An unspoken I love you.

Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all.

2. 

The restaurant is bright, and loud, much more lively than the restaurants Kurt's been to. Blaine and Tina had dragged him to dim sum, which, they explained to Kurt, was ordering many plates of small foods to share between all of them.

They're seated, and Kurt can't get over how loud it was. It's nice though, seeing these Chinese families shout over each other across the table. In any other establishment, it would've appeared rude, but here, it just makes it more homey. There are so many old couples sitting on tables on the sides of the restaurant, and Kurt's heart warms at how adorable it is.

The waiter, dressed in black and carrying an obscene amount of trays balanced on his arms comes around and asks them what kind of tea they wanted. Tina orders for them, in English, Kurt was pretty sure, but he doesn't recognize the name. Oolong? The same waiter appears again in no time with a porcelain teapot hooked around his pinky finger and places it on their table. Kurt is impressed at how the trays don't topple over. In the aisles between the tables, carts of steaming food are pushed around, and Blaine's eyes widen at the selection.

He turns to Kurt, almost an awed manic look, and Kurt can't help but bark a laugh. Blaine turns around and begins ordering everything that's passing their way, whilst chatting politely with the people pushing the carts. Tina also laughs at the enthusiasm and lifts her little white teacup to Kurt. Kurt also grabs onto his, noting the lack of handle.

Tina winks, "Cheers."

Kurt clinks his cup against hers. "Cheers," and downs the cup of tea.

3\.  

There are some times that it hits Kurt the hardest. Usually at night, when the sky is a beautiful, rich navy, and the city lights twinkling in the light smog. It's lovely, and absolutely melancholy. What people seem to forget is that grief hits you in waves. It hits months later, and then more months later. It ebbs and flows, and some nights it just rushes in, drowning you. It's unexpected. There's no known trigger. Just sometimes, you remember.

Kurt clutches the kettle and finds even the few steps to the sink a little difficult. With every foot forward, memories flood in Kurt's mind. Boiling water for Finn's hot water bottle when he would be injured from football. Finn's head peeking from the head of the couch, because he was just so damn tall. Just laying on the couch awkwardly and giving Kurt grateful smiles when Kurt brought him warm milk and a hot water bottle for his knee.

He's glad that Blaine's out studying at a coffee shop. As nice as a hug would be, he wants to be alone tonight. He doesn't need condolences, or any other words that his sweet fiance would offer.

Kurt's hand finally reaches the tap, fills the kettle, puts it on, and sets it to boil. He presses a hand to his mouth and closes his eyes. God, he misses Finn so much. He still remembers the day it happens. When the phone rang, and he could hear Carole's choked voice stuttering out words that Kurt didn't want to piece together. He remembers flying back to Lima, remembers how Carole didn't even speak for the first few hours he was there, just stared at him, her face's paleness rivalling Kurt's. Clutched at his hand, and wouldn't let go. Burt's hugs were tight, his voice gruff in Kurt's ear, whispering "I love you, bud." And he just felt so numb. Like it wasn't even real. He felt nothing for a week, as if life was just passing around him, but Kurt was just stagnant, stuck in a time when Finn was still alive. Of course, he knew that Finn was dead. He was there for the funeral. He was there to pack up Finn's things. He was there to hug Carole. He was there for McKinley's tribute. He cried, reminisced, and mourned. Yet, it seemed strangely distant to him then.  Almost removed.

It doesn't right now. Right now, in the quiet night, alone, leaning against the kitchen counter, it's not distant or surreal at all. Kurt keeps his eyes closed, because he can almost imagine Finn bumbling up, looking for food in the fridge. Kurt may be in a different city right now, living with his fiance, but if he closes his eyes, he can _see_ Finn. So clearly. When he closes his eyes, Kurt can imagine that it's just another Friday night dinner in his kitchen in Lima. Just waiting for something to cook on the stove, reprimanding Finn for snacking ten minutes before the food was going to be served anyway. It's so _real_.

The kettle whistles, and Kurt opens his eyes.

The memory vanishes in the stark reality of the empty kitchen. He's in New York. And Finn's dead. Finn wasn't there for Blaine's proposal. Won't be Kurt's best man at the wedding. Won't get to graduate from teacher's college. Won't get married. Won't be a dad. Or the goofy uncle for Kurt and Blaine's kids.  

The sobs racked his body before Kurt even knew what was happening, sorrow ripping into his chest and pushing him onto the floor. Kurt sat on the tiled floor, back against the counter, posture defeated. He cried, pitiful noises coming from his mouth that his own ear didn't recognize. It couldn't even begin to match the agony he felt inside.

Kurt pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped himself hard around them, because it felt like his heart was exploding in thousands of pieces inside, and he had to _had to_ keep it together.

Finn's not here anymore.

Kurt cries. And cries. Until his eyes hurt, and he just feels so drained. So dry, he's cried all that he can. Kurt takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, wipes his sweaty, clammy hands on his pants. He straightens up and grabs Blaine's bowtie mug from the cupboard. Puts a tea bag in, pours the water, and drinks.

4. 

 Someone knocks on his dorm room door. Artie wheels himself up to the door and opens it to see… Blaine?

"Hey Blaine," he says, and tries not to let his voice betray his surprise. Artie takes in the tense line of Blaine's mouth, so different from the welcoming warmth that typically emanates from him.

Artie is worried. And confused. More so worried, because Blaine's his bro. They graduated together, he was Artie's perfect Tony. "What's up, man?"

Blaine feigns a smile, but it just looks wrong, because Blaine's eyes are… dead. The same eyes that Artie envies and admires because they just shine through a camera lens... are lifeless. It's wrong.

Blaine's voice breaks when he speaks, "Kurt and I had a fight," and licks his lips to soothe the dryness.

Artie nods, feeling so out of his element, but also wanting to do the right thing. God, how the hell does he handle this?

He gestures to his bed, and Blaine sits primly on the edge of the comforter, body too tense. Usually Blaine has no problem kicking off his shoes, crossing his legs, and gearing up for an intense game of Halo. Artie swallows. This may be harder than he thought.

He wheels over to a bottom drawer, where he has various bottles of alcohol. Artie sneakily looks at Blaine and assesses that Blaine is probably not the type to drown his sorrows in vodka. Artie spies a couple of tea bags in the back corner that must've been left from his Freshman Welcome Kit last year. Well, that'll work better than anything else he's got.

"Tea?"

"Please," Blaine croaks out, and Artie is relieved that he did something right. They're silent as the water boils, and Artie pours a cup for Blaine. As they're waiting for the tea to steep, the silence is getting a little uncomfortable, so he rolls himself to the speakers where his iPhone is connected. He presses play. _The Black Rider_ from the _Lord of the Rings_ soundtrack starts booming out. It starts out with intense bass and drums before drifting off to softer flute music, and the music is so unexpected that both Blaine and Artie burst into laughter.

Blaine raises his eyebrows in the midst of his giggles, sniffling away tears, "Oh my god, Artie, I love this soundtrack."

"It's brilliant, I agree."

There's a pause. "Sorry about the tea taking so long, by the way, the instructions say to steep for six minutes."

Blaine rolls his eyes, and his posture loosens, "Like I care, pass me the mug."

They sip at their tea, and just listen to the soundtrack for a while, now comfortably at ease with each other. Artie stays quiet. Blaine will tell him what happened whenever he's ready.

Eventually Blaine speaks, "I came home from the coffee shop, and Kurt was crying. Over Finn."

Artie immediately turns down the music and a sombre expression clouds his face. He doesn't speak.

"So, I went to hug him, obviously. Wanting to comfort him. But he didn't want me. Said that he needed his space. But I wasn't going to bother him! I just wanted to hold him. I wouldn't have even spoken if he didn't want me to. It got tense. Obviously, we were both stressed. I had a long day from studying, and we both… said some things."

Artie cocks his head. "Like?"

"How just because Finn was his brother doesn’t mean that his death didn't affect me either. He said some stuff about me suffocating him again. How I don't understand how he needs to be alone sometimes. Which I don't. Because when I'm having a shit day, all I want is for Kurt to hold me."

"Well, you and Kurt are different people," Artie says gently.

"I know. I know," Blaine huffs out, "I know now. I get it now. It just didn't make sense to me before. I was just getting into my head, and I was so scared. I'm terrified of Kurt not talking to me. Of us not communicating. I thought he was pushing me away, and I just wanted to be there for him, you know?"

"I know. But, Blaine -"

"I know. I know he needs his space. And that's fair. People grieve differently. I was just so caught up, and then he lashed out on me, and I said hurtful things back, and," his voice is quieter, "I just don't want to lose Kurt too. Again."

"You're not going to. I mean, you and Kurt are meant to be. You guys are soulmates. You have perfect chemistry. Tensions are just," he pauses, "running high. And that's normal. Couples are going to fight. You and Kurt are going to work through it. You guys have to."

Blaine smiles, and his eyes are pools of gratitude. He nods, "Yeah, you're right, man." He blows out a breath, cheeks puffing out before deflating. Even his curls seem to escape a little from the gel prison they're in as he exhales.

Artie assesses Blaine, "You gotta go, dude."

Blaine seems to come back to life a little more, smiles, and leaves. Artie watches the door close behind him, and knows that it's going to work out.

Blaine's tea cools on Artie's bedside table.

~~5.~~

Kurt's eyes are ringed with pink when Blaine comes back to their apartment. Kurt stands and rushes to Blaine, immediately wrapping him into a tight embrace. Blaine rests his head in the nook between Kurt's neck and shoulder.

He can feel Kurt's hands on his back. "I love you," Kurt whispers into his hair, "I'm sorry."

"Me too. Too both," and Kurt can feel rather than hear the words being said on his neck.

Blaine tilts his head up and kisses Kurt him softly, short presses against his lips.

Kurt parts his mouth, and angles his mouth so that he can kiss deeper. His hands start roaming up and down Blaine's back, and Blaine presses himself to Kurt's chest, exhaling on a moan - more out of comfort than arousal.

They both smile, and with his eyes closed, Blaine starts toying with the hem of Kurt's shirt, swiping across the skin of stomach underneath before tugging it over Kurt's head. Kurt does the same to Blaine. They're both shirtless, standing, and still kissing. Blaine's fingers tangle into Kurt's hair, bringing his head down as Blaine arches his back to kiss him harder. His tongue darts in and out, flickering, soft, and teasing. Kurt's hands grab at Blaine's ass, more so to regain balance from Blaine's forceful tug, but stay there.

He squeezes, and Blaine shudders, now letting out a soft moan - definitely out of arousal.

They both walk to the bedroom, stepping on each other's toes, because they're attached by the lips. It's probably much more efficient if they could just let go of each other, but they get to their bed eventually anyway. They fall onto the bed, Blaine on top of Kurt. In the darkness of the bedroom, Blaine moves as smooth as liquid chocolate, slithering down Kurt's chest, peppering kisses everywhere his mouth can reach.

Kurt throws his head back, and his hips lift off the bed when Blaine starts unbuttoning his pants. The pants are worked off his legs, and Blaine licks his lips at his gorgeous, naked fiance.  Kurt sees Blaine's soft, pink tongue and groans. "God Blaine, please," he pleads breathily.

Blaine smiles, eyes dark and mischievous. Without saying a word, he engulfs Kurt's cock in his mouth, bobbing up to lick all around the sensitive head. "Oh my god," Kurt gasps, and his hands are tightly fisting the sheets. Blaine purses his lips to kiss lushly up and down, his fingers stroking Kurt's sensitive thighs, now trembling.

Kurt bites at his lip when Blaine _holy shit_ deep-throats him, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. Blaine's never deep-throated him before. This is _amazing_. Kurt's eyes roll to the back of his head at the pleasure coursing through him. It's so wet, and Blaine's harsh breathing in and out of his nose is the most erotic thing that Kurt has heard. Kurt breathes hard, can feel tingles spreading out, feeling precome leaking out at a rapid rate. Blaine pulls off, breathing hard, before diving back in, lapping it up, and Kurt tenses, wraps his hands in Blaine's hair, ignoring the crunch from the gel, and comes, covering his stomach and _oh_ , Kurt realizes, there's his come striping Blaine's face.

Kurt can't get over how hot that is. It's never been something that he's given much thought before, but seeing Blaine all marked up just does something to him. Blaine is now up, his hands clenching and unclenching out of fists. His eyes are closed, afraid to open, "Kurt?" Blaine's voice is hoarse, and god, Kurt can't get hard again this quickly, but he loves that Blaine's voice is a little destroyed right now.

"Yeah baby, just wait," and Kurt darts forward to lick the come off of Blaine's chin and lips, before pushing it into Blaine's mouth. Blaine's trembling, "Kurt," he pants, "Please, god, baby, touch me. Take off my pants. Oh my god. Please. Now. Now."

Kurt manoeuvres Blaine onto his back onto the bed, and takes off Blaine's pants off. Blaine immediately hooks his hands to his knees and pulls his knees up so that he's exposed. "God I want to fuck you," Kurt can't stop staring at that delectable ass.

"Please, please, please," Blaine whines, before his voice dissolves in a weak cough.

Kurt doesn’t want to stop, but that cough also sounded a little uncomfortable, "Blaine, let me make you some tea first before we continue?"

Blaine sits upright suddenly, eyes open in shock, staring at Kurt like he's crazy. "You want to stop?"

"I obviously don't want to, but your throat…"

"I'll live. Now fuck me before I do it myself."

You know what, Kurt's going to trust his fiance's judgement. He bends his head and kisses Blaine's hole.

"Please, please, more -" his voice ends with a gasp as Kurt flattens his tongue and licks broad, firm strokes against Blaine.  Impossibly, Kurt's cock starts to harden again.

Blaine's writhing on the bed, muscles twitching, moans punctuated with whines. "C'mon Kurt, inside, inside, inside." His hole is soaked and practically inviting Kurt's fingers.

Kurt slicks his fingers up with lube and quickly fucks his fingers into Blaine, making Blaine arch at a violent angle off the bed. "I'm ready, I'm ready," Blaine whispers, and Kurt lines up his cock before fucking in slowly, letting Blaine adjust a bit. It was much less than their usual amount of prep, but Blaine's body bears it beautifully and begins to push his body back down onto Kurt's cock. "Oh god, oh god. Kurt, it -- oh -- Kurt, it feels so good. Don't stop. D-Don't stop."

Kurt doesn’t, and he thrusts harder, deeper. Having already come once, Kurt can concentrate on Blaine and get Blaine to where he needs. He grabs onto Blaine's hips and tugs him closer, hitting Blaine deeper. Blaine lets out a long wail, and frantically tugs at his cock, "There, there, there," he chants rhythmically.  Kurt admires the beautiful twisting, at Blaine turning his head into the pillow, mouth parted, eyes closed, oblivious to everything but his own pleasure.  Blaine's jacking off in earnest now, and Kurt thrusts with more force at the sight, almost pushing Blaine up the bed.

Blaine's body coils, clenching tighter and tighter around Kurt's cock, "Oh, oh - Kurt - I'm coming, oh!"

Blaine comes around Kurt, squeezing, stripes of white painting his own chest, stark against the sweaty, panting, tan skin of his chest.

Kurt admires Blaine as he comes down from his orgasm, slipping his cock weakly out. He's still hard, but that doesn’t matter right now. Blaine's exhausted, and all Kurt wants to do is cuddle with his fiance, and just be with the people that are here.

Blaine notices, and reaches a hand out weakly, motioning to give Kurt a handjob or something. Kurt shakes his head. He may be hard, but he's plenty satisfied. He cradles Blaine's body in his arms, spooning him. They sleep.

5. 

Blaine wakes up alone in bed, confused, he starts to call for Kurt, "Kur-" and is interrupted by coughs. His throat is _so_ dry and sore, but deep-throating had _so_ been worth it. Kurt walks back in from the kitchen, black pyjama pants slung low on his hips. He's holding a cup of steaming tea in his hand, and offers it to Blaine. Blaine takes it and drinks without complaint. "Thanks."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow, "No, thank _you_."

6. 

Blaine coughs, before blowing his nose loudly into a tissue. He's actually sick this time, having caught the summer flu that's been going around. This sucks, and Blaine's cranky. All he wants to do is go outside and explore the farmer's market with Kurt, and go swimming, and do all those things now that class is over and it's finally, finally summer.

But he's stuck. In bed. Albeit with the most caring, understanding fiance. Kurt walks into the bedroom, carrying yet another mug with a different kind of tea. He places it beside the four other mugs on the bedside table, since Blaine's being picky and wanting to drink his liquids only at a certain temperature. If it becomes too lukewarm for his taste, he'll beg Kurt to make him another cup. And Kurt sighs, exasperated, but still, doesn't say anything, and goes to make him another mug.

Blaine might be going a little crazy. Kurt's been so patient. But still, Kurt gets to walk. And go outside. And play with dogs at Central Park. And all Blaine gets to do is sit in bed. And wallow. And sit. It's not fair.

"Blaine, if you would just stop throwing yourself a pity party for ten minutes and drink your damn tea, I'd appreciate it. I don't want to have another half-full cup of tea to pour down the sink."

Blaine pouts at Kurt's tone. Inwardly, he knows he's being _a bit_ of a child right now, but he can't help it. He wants to be swaddled in blankets like a burrito, he wants to be cuddled, and he wants Kurt. All. The. Time.

Still, just so he doesn't make Kurt any more annoyed, Blaine dutifully sips at his tea. He sees Kurt melt at the sight, Blaine knows that although he's a sniffling, snotty mess, he's also working his adorable to his advantage.

Kurt looks up to the ceiling, almost as if to ask if he's actually going to let himself fall for Blaine's tricks again, but Blaine gives an especially loud slurp of tea, and Kurt gives up, and cuddles Blaine.

Blaine smiles and drinks his tea.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm extremely nervous about posting this story, and must give trufflemores so much thanks for encouraging me. I wrote this in the course of one evening, so it may not be the most refined piece of work, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> The part about Finn is very much based on how I handled a death of someone very important to me. For that reason, this story is especially near and dear to my heart. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
